


Like Home

by Laliandra



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laliandra/pseuds/Laliandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Royston comes back from Lapis, within Chapter 16. Brought on by the exchange where Royston says, "If I find you looking this tired when I return, I shall be very cross" and also the line "[Royston] finds himself inspired to move me to bed"</p><p>A few spoilers for the end of the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Home

**Royston**

 

The city is ringing with the sounds of victory, shouts and bells and the occasional groan from someone who has overindulged in the celebratory wine. This is Thremedon at its best, and I stick my head out the window of the government carriage with unashamed delight, drinking at all in. We round the corner and I see my house, my front door - the sight of which pleases me more than it ought to. I climb out of the carriage and motion the driver on, noting with satisfaction the slightly awed nod he gives me. I can't help but smile as I cross the threshold back into my own home.

I stride into the drawing room and there is Hal, fast asleep on the couch. I stare at him for a moment and he must have felt me, for he opens his eyes slowly then sits up to look at me, smiles, glad and deliciously crumpled. All my planned, clever words are blown away like down in the wind by an overwhelming combination of pure shock and purest joy, and I only manage, "Hello. I'm home." Which is both banal and redundant. "Safe and sound, as promised," I add, straightening my coat a little.

"You're alright?" Hal sounds worried and slightly incredulous, as if unable to believe that this story, our story, can have a happy ending.

"I'm fine. Much better as a matter of fact. They barely needed me, it was all over bar the shouting. And the exchange of prisoners."

I can hear myself rambling, something I am more prone to nowadays. I remind myself that not always being in control can be a good thing and cross the room quickly to pull Hal up into a tight embrace, his body warm and real against mine, not just a fading sensation as I wake from another dream.

"Still haven't got that hair cut," I say, a little too fondly.

Hal's laugh vibrates on my shoulder. He straightens up and says, "you must be exhausted. Are you hungry? Come, I'll make you something to eat."

I follow him into the kitchen and watch as he starts opening cupboards and pulling things out with an easy familiarity, strange to me but somehow fitting. I am still marvelling at this, at _him_, when I realise that there is a plate of cold meats and bread on the table and a questioning face across it.

"Are you after another war story? This one is not so exciting I'm afraid. Rather short and a little sad." I tear off a little bread and try not to think how much of an understatement that is.

"Is it true," Hal asks. "About the Airmen, and the dragons? Thom was going out of his mind with worry, I think he still is, truth be told. Rook was in a terrible way when they got him home, I didn't like to intrude after that."

"The rest they captured all died under torture." I know I could be less blunt but the images of useless twisted metal and limbs clouds up my brain. I catch Hal's gaze and there is understanding in it, so I try a smile. I say, "I think maybe I'll save this story for another time. A letter to William perhaps. It is still a little too close for fictionalising today. So it can be your turn. What have you been up to while I've been away. Basking in hero worship?"

Hal ducks his head. "Sleeping, mostly. A good deal of reading too, your books, Thom's books, Marius' books. I've been using your friends as a library, its shameful. But, for the main part, sleeping. In fact, I've been in bed nearly all day," he admits, a little shy. "You did say I wasn't too look so tired when you came home."

I take his hand and this seems to embolden him, he looks up at me through falling hair with a glint in his eye that I hope to see more often. "So, how do I look?" he asks.

The responses flood in from all over my self. The baser parts suggesting, "Entirely desirable", my rational scholar's brain thinks, "Like a young man with unfashionable hair and clever eyes", and my heart can only repeat, "Hal, my Hal".

"You look like home," I tell him simply.

He looks at me in that way he sometimes does, as if I were a roman he just knows contains a wonderful story, for all its ordinary bindings and it makes me feel proud and unworthy and almost unbearably fond of him.

Hal says, "Ah", very softly, then stands up and comes to lean on table next to me, clearly trying to appear nonchalant and not quite accomplishing it, playing with a thread at his cuff and not looking me straight in the eye.

"I may be a little tired yet, maybe I should go back to bed." His eyes flick to me and then away again, and he bites the corner of his lip. I am a man of the world, I've seen many things, seen men use many tricks, the sight of Hal biting his lip shouldn't totally undo me but, oh, it does.

"Maybe," I reply, my voice low. "Maybe I should put you to bed," and though Hal still doesn't look at me I see that corner curve up into a smile as I stand up.

"I think maybe we should move out of the conditional tense," he says, finally meeting my gaze and going slightly pink, but there is want in his eyes too, to match what he is seeing in mine.

"Lets. I've always been much more fond of the imperative anyway."

He laughs, draws me in for a slow, promising, dizzying kiss, and then whispers, "I'm sorry, I'm terribly poor with words, so I went for actions."

I lean back and tilt his chin up gently, stroking his jawline with my thumb. "Hal, I have absolutely no issue with that."

To my surprise and quiet delight he doesn't blush, rather gives me a quizzical look, ruins it by smiling radiantly and takes my hand and leads me towards the stairs.


End file.
